Genocide
by Mr. Gallows
Summary: Before the trophies, before the cybernetics, and before all the rage, there was a simple Kaleesh who was devoted to his people. In the days before the Battle of Geonosis, General Grievous seeks out to settle some old scores with the Huk, while laying to rest the ghosts of his past. All characters contained are owned by their respective creators/copyright holders. I own nothing.
1. Prologue

Genocide

Prologue

Darth Tyrannus marched hurriedly through the halls of his Geonosian stronghold. He flew past the inept droids and the frantic Geonosian workers, hurrying to complete the latest model of their newest killing machine. He had too much to deal with for this to be happening right now. He had to worry about securing the super weapon plans for his master, aligning the last of the tradesmen to the Separatist cause, overseeing the assassination of Senator Amidala, and a score of other problems. He could not afford to have his latest pet project running amok across the galaxy without supervision.

"A troublesome one this one will be," he thought as he walked into his command center and shut the blast door behind him. Hill should have altered his brain further to preemptively nix such insubordination.

The fallen Jedi regained his calm and collected demeanor and methodically entered the information to contact his quarry via their personal communication system. A blue ball of static appeared on his holoprojector. Clearly, his contact was too far off the network's reception.

"Come in, general," Dooku said with authority.

The scrambled image on the projector stirred, and Dooku could barely make out the phrase, "Yes, Count Dooku?"

Dooku scowled. "You are far off course, general. You were supposed to be back at Geonosis three days ago, but your ship's tracking device says you're somewhere in Wild Space. What are you doing?"

The ball of static chuckled. "Worry not, Dooku. I am simply attending to some unfinished business before our war gets underway. Don't you worry, Count, I wouldn't miss a chance to take Jedi lives for all the riches in the galaxy."

He furrowed his brow. "What business could you possibly have in that part of the galaxy?"

"I've still the mental faculties to remember those who've wronged me."

These words alarmed Dooku for a moment, before he realized that there was no way Grievous could know of his involvement in the accident.

"I will be back to Geonosis before I'm even missed," croaked the droid general before he deactivated the transmission.

Dooku sat in his chair and contemplated his master's choice in the former Kaleesh. "Most troublesome…"


	2. Chapter 1: Invasion

Chapter 1

Invasion

_"Spare me your noise, Hill!" Grievous barked as he threw on his cloak and began rummaging through his chambers on Muunilist._

_ "General," pleaded San Hill of the Intergalactic Banking Clan. "Please be reasonable. After all, we did have an arrangement did we not?"_

_ Grievous pulled open a series of drawers and pulled out his mummu skull war mask. "Indeed, we did banker." He began to slowly walk toward Hill. "We agreed that I would work for you so long as my people were kept out of harm's way and supported. We agreed that I would abandon my post as a protector of Kalee to act as your errand boy." He was almost breathing down Hill's neck now. "Now, since I was out acting as our thug, the Huk scum has desecrated our burial grounds!"_

_ Hill slowly backed away from the enraged Kaleesh, ever trying to appease his newest employee's hair trigger fury. "I understand your anger, commander, I really do. But-," _

_ "There is no 'but', Hill!" Grievous shouted as he ran across the room gathering his Outland rifle, swords, and the rest of his arsenal into a sling bag. "My forefathers were buried there, and your Republic encourages their shaming!" As he threw the last pistol into the bag, he began walking for the door. "There is no debate here. _The Martyr___leaves Kalee for Obden in three days. After we're done there we march on their homeworld. I'll send another in my stead if you wish, but make no mistake, banker. I am going." He turned his back on Hill and walked out of the room._

_ Hill chased after him in vain, imploring him to reconsider. "Please, come back, general! __Qymaen__!"_

_ The Kaleesh stopped immediately at the mention of his former name. He dropped his things and in an impossibly fast manner, ran at Hill, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and pinned the banker against the wall. _

_ "My. Name. Is. Grievous," he growled. He felt the fear welling up inside Hill every second he was in his grasp. Such a cowardly little being. There was no sense of honor in any of these IGB businessmen. He almost pitied them. Almost._

_ Hill fell to the ground when he let go of him. He went down on a knee to better speak to the cowering Muun. "There is no more Sheelal. Not anymore…" _

_ Grievous paused for a moment, recounting days long past and friends long gone. As he walked out of the building, he thought about how he would make the Huk suffer for their transgressions against him and Kalee. Against Ronderu. And while he didn't know how at the time how he was going to do it, the Republic, too, would be held accountable for their actions. Even if he had to march the __Kolkpravis into Coruscant himself, every last senator and Jedi was going to pay dearly. Plotting and scheming to himself, he could hear Hill shrieking out behind him._

_ "General, please! General Grievous! Grievous!"_

The bridge was in a frenzy. Every droid on board was making final preparations for the invasion, and the loud screeching of "rogers" filled the ship. Grievous sat at the command, dictating orders to the battle droids he had been allotted by Dooku. "Useless droids," he thought to himself. Such incompetence. Such stupidity. Though he admired their lack of remorse and their unfaltering commitment to their orders, it was nothing but programming. The bumbling robots lacked any sort of drive, ambition, or honor. He was used to commanding soldiers with heart and integrity. But, he supposed for the purposes of this mission, he'd have to make due.

One unit rushed up to him. "We've arrived, General. Your intelligence was correct. We haven't been able to detect a single power-source."

"Of course I was right!" he wheezed. "Now-," he had to stop to indulge in a fit of wet, uncontrollable coughing.

"Curse this body," he thought. The Geonosian do nothing but work with technology all day, yet they still fail to perfect their craft. Dooku and Sidious could boast about improvements until the dewbacks came home. He still knew he was denied a warrior's death by the damnable cybernetics.

"Begin landing the AATs and make a perimeter around the capital," he barked as he rose from his chair. He started making his way toward a large chest at the center of the control room. The red tinted light in the _Malevolence_ control room made his metal frame seem almost demonic as he marched. "As it falls, so too does the planet."

As he approached the chest, he entered in a short code on the side of the wall. The large container opened without a sound. "Make sure to equip the troops with flame and explosive based weaponry," he commanded as he pulled out his rifle and custom blaster. "They won't be able to hide in a burning jungle."

"Roger, General," squawked the droids as they ran to carry out their assignment.

He slowly turned around to his MagnaGaurds scurrying out the door with the rest of the droids. The very thought! The last remnants of his Izvoshra, his own elite fighting force, scrambling and running alongside the most inept warriors this side of The Outer Rim! "IG Units 101 to 105! Stand at attention!" With these words his bodyguards rushed over to his side, their already tattered cloaks fluttering behind them.

"You will be serving directly alongside me on this operation," he said as he paced the ground in front of them. "You know not fear, nor mercy. You have been trained in almost every form of combat known to the galaxy. You are all that remains of my most prized fighting force, and I expect you all to live up to that title. That is all. I will see you all on deck 12 in twenty minutes."

The droids marched out of the bridge one at a time until only the general remained. He walked over to the observation window to gaze at the planet below. "Soon," he thought. Soon every single bug on that planet would bend to his newfound power. They would know fear before it all ended, and they would beg for that end. And when it was all over, he would see to it that the Huk homeworld would never again be able to target his people. "Your days are numbered, you murderous scum," he said to himself. "And they have been since that day on the beaches of Jenuwaa…"


	3. Chapter 2: Devastation

Chapter 2

Devastation

Grievous sat quietly in the dropship as it approached the planet. The droids around him stood on edge and at attention as they always did. His bodyguards formed a tight semi-circle around their master, while the pilots made sure their arrival into the atmosphere remained smooth and steady.

He resolved that this wouldn't take long. Calling it a battle would be something of an overstatement. His strategy was without flaw, and he knew it. He had fought the Huk far too much to not know their every move, their every strategy, and their every weakness. He was their superior in every way, even before his reconstruction. But for all his genius and courage, the Huk had pinned his weaknesses. Before, the Huk had relied upon the fact that his Izvoshra were technologically impaired. They crutched on their guerilla tactics. They needed their stinking Jedi to fight their battles for them.

Now he had an army equipped with the best weaponry money could buy, he had the advantage of surprise, and most importantly, there would be no Jedi to interfere this time. "This time," Grievous thought to himself "I will have my justice. And every single Huk on that planet is going to pay with their lives."

His communicator activated and the voice of one of his sergeants rang through the speaker. "Sir, we've landed our forces in the jungle and are creating a perimeter just as you commanded."

Grievous chuckled. "Good, good. Now use your incendiary weapons to clear a path to the capital. You will find resistance to be minimal to non-existent. When you reach the city, the population will be contained in the ornate building at its center. Hold them there until I arrive. Crush any settlements or villages you encounter along the way. Show them no mercy!"

"Roger, roger, general!" the droid squawked before the communicator buzzed out.

Grievous sat up from his chair. If he still had a mouth, it would be smiling right now. As he walked across the floor of the ship and picked up his equipment, he couldn't help but pity the poor Huk. They had no way of knowing. They had no defenses competent enough to even hold him back now. It was going to be a massacre. For a moment, he actually considered calling off the attack.

But almost as quick as it left, the rage returned to him. How dare they assault his planet, enslave his people? And they _got away with it all_. After every parent killed, every child abducted, and every friend lost forever, they were still labeled as the innocent. They were little more than animals to him. And he was going to slaughter them like animals.

His magnaguard spoke up behind him. "Master," the droid said in a garbled, scratchy, mechanical voice, "Is it not questionable to attack a planet on a holy day?"

Grievous spun around and shot his elite a dirty glance. "An excellent question, 105," he said before he coughed. "When we get down there, you can ask the Huk themselves!" he shouted.

As the ship entered the atmosphere, he looked out to the planet below. Already he could see his troops cutting through the forests, in a

massive fiery circle.

_Qymaen ran hurriedly through the underbrush, going as fast as his little legs would carry him. He had been running for close to ten minutes, and had to have covered over a mile, but it still wasn't far enough. "Have…to…keep…running," he panted as he came to a slow halt. _

_ The four-year-old Kaleesh panted and gasped for air as he hunched over in exhaustion. He was so tired, but the fear outweighed everything else. The Huk had been harassing his people for quite some time (perhaps even before his birth, but he could never be too sure) but they never came in such force, and on a day like this._

_ He looked around him. He could see nothing but the green leaves and brown trunks of the trees around him, although he knew that the rainforest canopy sheltered him from much more disturbing sights. "How could this have happened?" he thought._

_ It was supposed to have been a joyous day, for celebration and reverence. It was his grandmother's feast day. So ferociously and so forcefully did she fight in the __Bitthævrian war that the very gods themselves allowed her to join their ranks upon her death. Everyone on Kalee was celebrating in honor of this latest addition to their heavenly pantheon when the Huk arrived en masse. Knowing that the day was a day of worship for the Kaleesh, they attacked without fear of organized retaliation. Using their more advanced weaponry, they launched a full-scale attack on several of the sacred temples and their surrounding villages._

_ Qymaen was partaking in the celebration with his mother and siblings when his father burst into the room. "Hurry!" he screamed in a panic as he kicked in the door and ran to Qymaen's mother. "Beloved, hide the young ones and fetch your spear! They're coming!"_

_ They bolted around the house with six of Qymaen's oldest brothers and sisters gathering all the blasters pistols, rifles, swords, and weaponry they could get their hands on._

_ As his family scattered around like frightened animals, Qymaen was struck dumbfounded. He stood staring at the chaos around him, feeling the rumbling of hundreds of Huk soldiers and slavers coming toward his home. And much to his surprise, he could only think of one possible way out: run._

_ It was either run or die for him. Surely, he had no doubt about his father and mother's ability to hold off the invaders, but he wouldn't last a second in the crossfire. Summoning all the might his young frame could muster, he tossed a chair through a window a few feet off the ground, creating an escape route for him and his siblings. "Hurry, get out of here!" he shouted as they fled out the window. One by one he watched as his brothers and sisters fled into the rainforest. "And find a safe place to hide!" he screamed as the last one vanished into the bushes. _

_ As he jumped out himself, he could hear the blaster fire and explosions behind him. He could hear the grotesque, wet, and rapid clicking of the Huk as they advanced. He could hear his older brothers and sisters screaming and shouting. And perhaps most haunting, he could hear the anguished screams of his parents as he retreated into the brush. _

_ "I didn't have a choice," he said to himself as he sat alone under the tree. "I was going to die. Father always praised the honor of a tactical retreat." And the more the young Kaleesh convinced himself his actions were justified, the more he started to believe in them. _

_ "Seems quiet," he thought after an hour or so of hiding. He looked scanned the area of the tree and could see no indication of any Huk in the area. _

_ No sooner did he remove himself from his hiding spot, did two heavily armed Huk soldiers drop from the canopy above. They hit the ground with a loud crash. They struck out after him faster than he could even think, and before he even realized what was happening, one of them had him in his grasp, dangling the youth from his pincer. _

_ As they brought him back toward their main camp, they continued on in their disgusting language. The clicking and squelching invoked fear and revulsion in Qymaen in equal measure. He knew the stories. He had no doubt he was about to either be executed or sold into slavery like the rest of his people. Despite knowing they wouldn't understand him, Qymaen uttered several of the vilest Kaleesh curses he could think of._

_ But even as one so young, Qymaen still had the blood of a warrior in him. "I will not die here," he thought to himself. "I have far too much left to do. I am the grandson of a damned god! I will not be sold like some livestock!" He darted his head around in a panic, looking for something, anything that would aid in his escape. _

_ When all hope seemed lost, he saw a glimmer of sunlight reflect off the captor's belt: a blaster. He overextended his arm grasping at the weapon, reaching desperately to land at least one claw on the thing. He closed his eyes in desperation when he felt the sting of cold durasteel on his flesh. Success! _

_ With a speed faster than he thought he was capable of, Qymaen pulled the weapon from the Huk's belt and fired away. _

_ Three shots. Thud._

_ Another four shots. Thud._

_ As he stood in the forest, hovering over the bodies of his first kills, Qymaen couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with emotion. Pride, joy, and confidence all swelled within him. And as he heard his father running toward him in the brush, he knew instantly what he wanted:_

_ More dead Huk._


	4. Chapter 3: Escalation

Chapter 3

Escalation

_His soldiers stood at full attention as he walked into the room. He looked around at them, each of them all but throwing themselves to the ground in praise. It had been some time since his first Huk kills; 20 years, in fact. In that time he had killed more Huk than most Kaleesh would see in their lifetime. So many had he killed, rumors were beginning to spread of his divinity. Of course, they were fallacious claims, but he never denied them. All the better, he thought, his enemies fear his prowess as those of a wrathful god. "At ease, my friends," he said as he examined their maps and plans sprawled out across a table at the room's center._

_ The walls of their makeshift command center were decorated with trophies from the Huk he had killed. Weaponry, scalps, clothing, and more hung in a beautifully grizzly mosaic. It almost brought a tear to his eye._

_This place had been his home for the last gods-know-how-long. After his family died all those years ago, his father brought him to the Kaleesh resistance. Sensing skill and rage in his son in equal measure, he taught the young Qymaen everything he knew about marksmanship, a skill the boy honed until he surpassed even his teacher in its ways. His troops, and the Kaleesh population for that matter, would marvel and gawk at his almost other worldly prowess with his Outland rifle, and he'd play it off as natural ability. _

_ But Qymaen's skill with a rifle was always more than just natural talent. Every trigger pull, every magazine, and every headshot was in vengeance for the mother, siblings, and childhood the Huk had robbed him of. And he made sure every last bullet counted._

_ "What news from the front?" he asked the Kolkpravis surrounding him. _

_ One of them, a particularly large, burly, hulk of a Kaleesh, stepped forward. "My lord, the Huk are advancing on both sides. They're tearing through the Kunbal and their ships will reach the shores of the Junuwaa by nightfall. We would highly advise relocating our forces several miles south."_

_ "No, Sk'ar. We shall do no such thing." Sheelal pointed to a small dirt road on the map. "This pathway is only a short distance away from our location. We shall use it to flank the Huk advancing through the jungle. Then we attack them through the brush on both sides. They'll be none the wiser, and will either fall back or succumb. Then we take their war machines and greet their friends when their ships arrive this evening."_

_ Sheelal swelled with pride as the entire room broke out into uproarious applause, cheering their divine leader in his tactical genius. The applause continued late into the night, after their battle stratagem went off without a hitch, even managing to attain some prisoners in the process. The celebration of the rebellion's victory went on into the long hours of the morning, when Sheelal retired to his quarters._

_ 'Oh," he said as he threw a knife over his shoulder to his troops. "I want the survivors thoroughly interrogated and dealt with by sunrise. Tomorrow we march on their base of operations in this sector." That night he fell asleep to the dulcet tones of screeching Huk infantry. _

_ For all his talk and military prowess, Qymaen had been reluctant to reveal the source of his ability. For years, he had experienced visions most lifelike while he slept. He would see the outcome of one plan in his sleep and rectify it as soon as the next morning came. Over time, he had learned to trust in these premonitions, and they had yet to steer him or his resistance wrong. _

_ This night was no different. He dreamt of the gargantuan Sk'ar causing a diversion at the enemy's gate, whilst he and a handful of other kolkpravis encircled the camp in secret. Flashes of red and blaster muzzles flew through his head as he dreamt of another victory over the invaders._

_ But then his vision took an unexpected turn. He saw himself running through the jungle, shoving the underbrush out of his way and kicking up dust in his wake. He was in a full sprint, rushing toward some unknown objective. He could hear screeches and cries somewhere in the darkness, and he felt and urge to chase after them. He was earing through the dense jungle, allowing only the shrieks and hollers guide him through the dark Kaleesh night. _

_ He awoke with a start when the screams echoed through the real forest. And as fast as his eyes opened, he was putting on his war mask and barreling through the door of his tent. Marakyth and Sk'ar stirred as well, and began to give chase. "No," Qymaen shouted behind his back as he ran into the Kunbal. "I do this alone. Watch the camp until I return."_

_ The shrill, piercing noises grew louder and more powerful with each passing step. He had spent many years in the Kunbal jungle, and not once had he heard a sound so hypnotically drawing. It drew him closer and closer like the most powerful tractor beam._

_ The faster he ran, the less attention he paid to his footing. A stray rock found itself in his way, and he landed himself facedown in clearing, mere inches away from his quarry._

_ He looked up from the dirt and saw a massive mumuu looming above him, its eyes gleaming with a visceral, primal rage. He scrambled backwards, clawing around in the dust for his blaster. As soon as he felt the padded dewback leather hilt, his arm flew forward, pointing the weapon at the creature._

_ To Qymaen's surprise, however, the muumuu had already fallen dead. From its back sprouted two highly stylized hilts. He recoiled at the sight. He knew that they were indeed Lig swords, his grandmother had used them in her time, but he hadn't heard of anyone slaying a muumuu with nothing else._

_ The bushes rustled behind him. In little under a parsec he had his weapon aimed at the source. From the shrubbery walked another Kaleesh, putting Qymaen slightly at ease. She was noticeably taller than himself, by at least half a meter. Her hair was black, and although tied into a ponytail, still was able to flow freely. On her back were two empty sheaths, presumably for her swords. _

_ "Your handiwork, I presume?" he said as he motioned toward the dead animal._

_ The stranger, taking no mind of the blaster still pointed at her, walked calmly over to her kill and pulled out her swords. 'You see anyone else around, friend? You sure as the gods didn't do it."_

_ Qymaen's eyes widened. He hadn't experienced such insolence in years. He wasn't used to it. He cocked his blaster. "Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?"_

_ The stranger tapped her chin ponderously, before shrugging her shoulders, face dripping with sarcastic wit. _

_ "I'm the one keeping your arrogant hide out of Huk slavery!"_

_ The stranger smirked. "I've been out here for years. I've been handling myself pretty well without any help from yo-."_

_ A shot rang out. A blaster bolt flew by the stranger's face and shot into a tree trunk. "Give me one good reason. Please." he threatened. _

_ Her arrogant demeanor was broken. "Calm yourself." She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small scroll of paper. "You hate the Huk, correct?" He nodded, "I have the access codes to all, and I mean ALL of their military enclosures, colonies, ships, and weapon depots. It's all yours."_

_ She lobbed the scroll toward him, his hands fumbling to catch it. As he unrolled it, he saw that the stranger was far from bluffing. Every plan, schematic, and strategy he could've hoped for was right in front of him. "How did you acquire these?" he demanded. "The Huk guard these secrets with their lives."_

_ She shrugged her shoulders again. "When you've been a sellsword for as long as I've been, you hear and see things not intended for you."_

_ Qymaen weighed his options. As loathed as he was to accept help, he couldn't afford to let this sort of opportunity slip away. He had the chance to not only recruit one of the most capable melee-combatants he had ever observed, who knows what Huk secrets still remain with her?_

_ "Stranger…" he sighed, "What would you say if I told you I had a proposition for you?"_

_ She perked her ears and smiled at him. "I'd tell you my name isn't Stranger. It's Ronderu. And then I'd say I was listening…"_

The general hunched himself over as he walked out of the dropship, the soft, muddy soil squishing up between his talons. He looked around at the once dense jungle around him. Where there once stood lush greenery and plant life now laid embers, ashes, and scorched craters in the earth. He saw ancient Huk ruins off to the distance.

He looked back to his bodyguards still in the dropship. "Units IG101 and 102, carry my weapons and take up the rear. 103, work communications and run interference on Huk signals. The rest of you are to go ahead to those ruins and see that the path has been made."

As he continued to scan his immediate surroundings, he saw the charred remains of a small hut-like building. He beckoned towards 103, who handed him his communicator. "This is Grievous to all droid units. Raze any small settlements to the ground, but escort the occupants to the rendezvous point at the capital for my arrival. Estimated time of arrival is 01400 hours."

103 knelt on the ground, tampering with more of its devices. "General, scans indicate a Republic presence in this sector. "

Grievous turned to his bodyguard. "Jedi," he growled. "Are you able to triangulate their exact position?"

The droid turned a few knobs on the black box at its feet, and then flicked at a green button. "Negative, general."

He grunted in frustration. "No matter," he thought. He'd been reconstructed so that the Jedi would be but insects to him. He would crush them as he would the Huk, and the rest of their order. Still, he was far from a fool. His droids were mere canon fodder to even the greenest Jedi. Unless he had a plan.

'This is General Grievous to all sniper units," he barked into his communicator. "We have an unknown number of Jedi on-planet. I want covering fire along our entire route should we run into an issue. Take up positions in the tree line and across the capital rooftops. Fire when commanded."

After he ended the transmission, he motioned to his bodyguards to start marching toward the ruins. As he followed his escort, he could feel the excitement building. The Huk and the Jedi in one day, he thought. Marvelous. It was only fitting he end one war and start the next in one fell swoop. As the ruins drew closer and closer, he couldn't help but remember his earliest conversation with Dooku.

"_Worry not, Grievous. My master and I have gone to great lengths to ensure you are rebuilt to perfection."_

"_Will I be able to fight?"_

_Dooku chuckled. "Of course, general."_

"_Will I be able to kill Jedi?"_

_Dooku fell silent. "My master has taught me a great many things," he said as he began pacing the floor in front of Grievous' bacta tank. "Chief amongst them is that rage is more powerful a tool than any lightsaber or blaster. It has the power to destroy planets and raise empires. And you..." he paused thoughtfully. "I sense a great rage in you. I sense a rage so fiery and bright that it can only be extinguished by the blood of thousands." He stopped his pacing as he came back in front of the tank. "General, with that type of fury burning within you there is nary a Jedi in the galaxy that will be able to stop you."_


	5. Chapter 4: Insubordination

Chapter 4

Insubordination

Grievous marched into the Huk ruins, flanked by his bodyguards. He looked around at the ancient, mossy stonework, the pillars overtaken by vines crumbling archways. He was reminded of the architecture from his home. Before the invasion, Kalee had settlements, farmlands, and a sprawling capital, built around an ancient, towering shrine to the many Kaleesh divines. The Huk, however, were not impressed. It, like most of the Kaleesh city where he was born, was razed to the ground. As he looked around at his foe's fallen buildings he couldn't help but feel a great sense of cosmic justice.

His quiet moment of introspection was put to a halt when 103's garbled voice broke through the silence. "Transmission coming through, general."

He spun around. "Blast it, Dooku," he thought to himself. "Why must you be so persistent." He pointed at 103. "Play the transmission through the holoprojector."

The droid complied and set up the small, circular projector on a patch of scorched earth. The hologram turned on with a buzz and a slender, blue figure whizzed in and out of focus. Grievous kneeled in front of the blurred image.

"Count, with all due respect, I have already explained my whereabouts-"

A scratchy and cold voice rang out from the blueness. "You have already explained yourself to my apprentice. But please, general, do remember who it is that ultimately holds your leash."

Grievous panicked. Darth Sidious had always been this unknowable enigma, lurking in the shadows and pulling the strings. He had never made any sort of direct contact with Grievous, before or after his reconstruction. So shrouded in mystery was he, that Grievous began to expect it was merely a façade created by Dooku to hide his true plans. "I apologize deeply, my lord. The transmission signal is weak in this sector. I mistook you for the Count."

The hologram grew progressively steadier, until Grievous was able to make out a vague image: an older man, his true guise hidden behind billowing ebony robes. "It matters little in comparison to your insubordination. Your place is on Geonosis with the rest of the Separatists. Why have you disobeyed me?"

Grievous rose from his genuflecting. "A personal mission to the Huk homeworld, my lord. It will take less than a day standard time for me to return to my post."

"You are correct about that. You will return to Geonosis immediately."

"No," Grievous thought. He had planned for this attack for days. He wasn't about to be turned around. "My lord, by the time I am done here not only will a Republic system fall to our command, but our enemies will be deprived a key trading partner. You stand to lose very little this day."

Sidious stood quiet for a moment or two. "And above all, my lord," said Grievous, "Is revenge not the way of your order?

Sidious stared at Grievous from beneath his cloak, his face as emotionless and cold as it ever was. If he wanted to, he could crush Grievous' gutsack from wherever he was transmitting from. But nevertheless, Grievous stood defiant, calling the sith lord's bluff. From even the most pragmatic standpoint, he knew Sidious wouldn't take severe action against him: he had cost too much to kill before the war even started.

The hologram pursed its lips. "Very well, general. You have 48 standard hours to complete this mission of yours and return to Geonosis."

"A thousand thanks, my lord," Grievous said, kneeling once more in front of the hologram.

"It would be most prudent of you to remember that this is an exceptional kindness, general," Sidious said, his words dripping with contempt. "Do not expect such insubordination to stand in the days to come."

The hologram flickered off and Grievous instantly felt a surge of relief. He wasn't used to having superiors, however few they may be. The idea that he could be an upstart solider was alien to him. But he had a mission to attend to. With a swift hand motion he indicated his magnagaurds to move forward into the brush.

_Ronderu sliced through the weeds and vines with her lig swords. "Get a move on, Sheelal. If we don't get there before sunrise we won't be able to take the compound." Qymaen followed, five or six meters in her wake. He could make little progress as long as the vines kept entangling his rifle. He wasn't used to moving about in brush this dense. _

"_And you are sure that this is a MAJOR weapons depot?" he asked. "I do not like to have my time wasted." He was taking a big risk following his rookie recruit into enemy occupied territory, but the promise of gaining control of the Huk's advanced weaponry was too great a prospect. Just a battalion's worth of Huk blasters could shift the tide in his favor. _

"_I'm as sure as the mask on your face," Ronderu snarked as she sliced through the jungle. "Finally!" _

_When Sheelal caught up to his soldier, he stood with her atop a massive cliff side. Below shone the dim fires of a Huk camp. Several makeshift tents sat around a circle in front of a much larger industrial building. It was a repurposed Kaleesh temple, heavily fortified with durasteel walls and a massive retaining wall around it. Sheelal's fists clenched at the sight of such a desecration of his people's house of worship. _

"_You're a good shot with that rifle, right?" Ronderu asked as the two looked over the camp._

_Sheelal, not removing his gaze from the enemy, knew instantly what his companion was plotting. "I'm the best shot on this side of the Kunbal, but that does not change the fact that what you are thinking of is the most reck-" Before he could finish scolding her she was already galloping down the hillside, swords drawn and charging the Huk tents. _

_Sheelal groaned to himself and took up a position to cover his over confident subordinate. He gave her five minutes at maximum before a huk blaster drilled a hole into her skull. Then he'd be on his way and come back with more men and and actual strategy. She'd served her purpose to him. _

_The Huk sitting around the campfire looked up with awe as Ronderu rushed them. Her speed was unmatched, and by the time the bugs had reached for their sidearms, she had arrived at the center of the camp. Qymaen had never seen any combat so perfect. The grace and ferocity with which this new recruit slayed the enemy was nothing short of perfection. Heads flew, carapaces were split open, thoraxes crushed under the swinging weight of her blades. It was an orchestra of violence with Qymaen as it's sole audience member. _

_As the carnage below ended, Qymaen noticed the blast doors of the larger compound opening. He could see through his rifle scope scores of Huk rushing toward Ronderu, clutching all manner of weaponry. Without even thinking, he pulled the trigger on his outland rifle several times. It was second nature to him by this point. The sounds of his shots cracked and echoed through the wildreness with thunderous cacophony. _

_As their comrades' limbs exploded in bloody messes from Sheelal's high caliber rounds, the remaining Huk scattered in panic. Their adrenaline-fueled carapaces only took them so far as the edge of Ronderu's blades, which had bathed themselves in the remaining Huks' blood before Sheelal even had a chance to reload._

_When Sheelal had made his way down the cliff, Ronderu was sitting by the campfire, relaxing after the quick, but feirce battle. "There may still be some non-military personnel in the compound," said Ronderu as she stood up. "We should get a move on to take care of them and salvage what we can before daybreak." Before Qymaen had a chance to respond, she was running off into the ruined temple. _

_As they walked through the barren halls of the complex, an unnerving silence crept over them. Qymaen had known this silence before, during long stakeouts in the jungle alone, or before a particulalry dangerous operation with his subordinates; peons and bantha fodder narry worthy of his time, nevermind his conversation._

_But it was clear to him now that this one was not like the others. Her unmatched skill in the art of combat, the brutality she displayed in dispatching her foes, and the blinding speed of her movements had proven this Ronderu lij Kummar to be a warrior on equal footing as himself. And it was on his honor to address her as such an equal. _

"_Your performance outisde was…impressive," Qymaen said, unsure of himself. He was so used to being the highest ranking individual in the room, he wasn't entriely sure about how to address a warrior of his standing. "You were almost as effective a combatant as myself."_

_Ronderu let loose and audible chuckle from beneath her mask. "I'm thrilled to know," she said with a hint of sass. _

"_Tell me, Ronderu, where did you learn to weild those swords like that?"_

_Suddenly, she grew somber, as if recalling a painful memory. "I've trained everyday since I was a girl. My father wanted a son to carry on his legacy of protecting our tribe. He wasn't going to let my gender get in the way of that ambition."_

_Qymaen had heard Ronderu make passing remarks about her family in the days since they had met. She was from a nomadic group of Kaleesh that wandered the northern wastes of the planet. His people only heard stories of the legendary swordsmen from the north. "Perhaps you may one day indulge me in some lessons?" he asked, always eager to master a new weapon. _

_Ronderu looked back at him and grinned. "But of course, general," she said in her ever-flippant tone. "I'd be happy to teach you. So long as you don't lose a hand or two in the process."_

_Qymaen had at first been annoyed by such quips, as no one had before treated him as one of their own. Always was he the general, the demi-god, the leader, and never the friend, comrade, or son. He had grown to like the occasional ribbing, especially from one he was proud to call equal. _

_At the end of the halway was a dark room filled with crates and boxes. The stacks were much taller than either of them, and were covered front to back in Huk herioglyphics. Qymaen had a very good feeling about this._

_Ronderu casually walked ove rto one of the shorter stacks and kicked it over. As the boxes hit the ground, they smashed open, revealing half a dozen military grade blaster pistols; more than enough for his men, Qymaen thought. "And you thought there wasn't going to be anything here," Ronderu said, as she leaned on one of the crates next to her. "You finally believe that I'm worth something to your little operation?"_

_Qymaen had barely heard her. So entranced was he at the prospect that he may actually win the war, destroy the Huk, and avenge his family that few things could have pulled his attention away. And as the legends that were written later would say, Ronderu's voice was one of those few things._


End file.
